


count your sorrows

by gravitymay



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-31
Updated: 2019-08-16
Packaged: 2020-07-27 17:46:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,967
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20050036
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gravitymay/pseuds/gravitymay
Summary: Rosalia Trevelyan is a timid circle mage, not at all cut out to be the hero the people of Thedas need. She is quiet, indecisive, and withdrawn, but she's also the Inqusition's last hope to save the world. Thanks to a past full of horror and trauma, her fear of Templars is enormous - and she has to work alongside one. It's up to her to prove to the world and more importantly, herself, that she is worthy of the role she has been forced into.((who am i kidding it's a slow burn cullen fic))





	1. intro

Cullen remembered how he learned her name.

It was when they all thought her the enemy, when Cullen looked at her unconscious body and thought, _this slip of a girl caused that? Not possible._ She was so small, and she screamed when the mark on her hand flared, utterly helpless to stop it. Solas struggled to provide aid. Cassandra wanted someone to blame in the rage of her grief. Leliana was intrigued, as always, and it didn't take long for her to find out the basics.

He'd been pacing Haven's chantry, running on two days of no sleep, covered in blood from his last battle and ready to face the next. Despair had begun to eat at him. They couldn't stand against the endless waves of demons forever. But if he lost hope, so would his troops.

Before he could run off to solve another problem, Cassandra called him into the war room. There, Leliana spread several sheets of paper before him. One even contained a rough drawing of the woman they were keeping their prisoner, though in this depiction her face was serene, not screwed up in pain and covered in sweat. "Rosalia Trevelyan. Born 9:08, 27 years old. She's the youngest in the Trevelyan family, all of whom are alive and well, and was a mage of the Ostwick Circle until the rebellion. It is unsure what she has done between then and now. There isn't much information to be found on her," Leliana said.

"A mage," Cassandra began distrustfully. "That thing was caused by magic, was it not?"

"Magic far beyond her or anyone else's capabilities, according to Solas and most everyone we have consulted. That doesn't rule out the chance of her being an accomplice, I suppose," Leliana wondered aloud, leaning against the table.

Cullen shook his head, picking up a sheet of paper. It contained several reports from teachers and fellow mages, all full of high praises. "She was a talented individual, top of her class. There were never any problems with her. She was an example for her peers," Cullen recited, frowning. "Does that sound like someone who would get mixed up in this?" By now, he thought he had become good at recognizing evil when it was before him. She didn't seem like the destroy-the-world type to him.

"That's a good point. But until we are certain, she is to be treated as an enemy," Leliana said. She usually had the last word anyways. Cassandra appeared somewhat satisfied, at least.

In the end, it was Cullen that proved right. He had been up on the mountain when she woke, but when she arrived with Cassandra, she saved his life. She tore apart one of the demons looming over him with a merciless blast of fire, and caught him by the arm before he went down. For a heart-stopping minute, they fought side by side until the rift could be sealed. That was the moment he learned she wasn't as fragile as she seemed.

Afterwards, as he helped carry her down the mountain, he was certain she would die. Her rich tan had paled significantly, and she was littered with wounds, the worst of which drenched the back of her head with blood. And cold. So cold. It would be terrible if she did die. Not just because she was their only chance at sealing the breach for good. But because he wanted to know her.

Solas, along with any other healer in Haven they could find, worked tirelessly to keep her alive. She did not stir, but at least she did not appear to be suffering. They all visited - him, Cassandra, Josephine, Leliana - but they found no answers in her near lifeless form. The breach was still a threat, and their last hope might die, and they didn't have time to linger at someone's death bed. They needed to move on, find another solution.

Then, in three days time, she woke.


	2. chapter 1

Ask any mage, and they would probably say they didn't like Templars. Unless they had been one of the lucky ones, pampered and free to live an almost normal life, their dignity honored by the men and women watching over them.

Rose didn't like Templars because she had experienced the polar opposite. On the outside, her Circle had appeared quite bland. One of the good ones, normal enough to be overlooked. It was easy to cover up incidents within the tower, since mages were unlikely to be believed. It was easy to silence them when they had no power. 

This was the root of her problem with the Inquisition; she had to work beside a Templar. Rose watched him as Harritt fine tuned the armor he was determined to perfect for her. Cullen Rutherford. He had been one all his life. Despite how important this seemed to be to him, he was not afraid to declare that he no longer was one. Could a life be shed so easily? _Never trust a Templar._ She thought she had become sure of that statement. Yet, her heart was conflicted.

Maybe she didn't like Templars, but she did like Cullen, or what she had seen of him so far. It was the matter of separating the two that she was having trouble with. She had thought him a soldier on the battlefield upon their first meeting, when they had fought together, quite literally back to back. She saw him in danger upon arrival and reacted without thinking, as she was wont to do in the heat of a fight.

It was in the war room that she finally put her finger on the familiarity of his body language. Such a simple thing, really, but recognizable after living with that type of warrior for so long. However, he was also courteous and welcoming, and smiled whenever he saw her. He didn't bear the distrustful glare that most Templars did, nor did he sneer insults at her.

"All done," Harritt said, stepping around so she could see him. "Your arms should have full range of motion now, Lady Herald. Casting spells will be easier."

Rose shrugged her shoulders. It definitely felt less tight. "Thank you, Harritt. What do I owe you?"

The blacksmith waved dismissively. "Oh, nothin' at all Herald. It was a simple fix."

Varric waited for her by the gate. "All good, Firefly?" he asked as she approached.

She smiled and nodded. They had all been treating her very delicately, which she couldn't fault them for. Firstly, she didn't come off as a particularly happy person, but that was more because she didn't say much, and was meek around unfamiliar people. The Circle had taught her to be reserved and respectful and always mindful of her betters. When she made herself small, she didn't get hurt. After the rebellion, she'd never been able to break the habit, and the Inquisition wasn't helping. Everyone seemed so much bigger than her, rushing about their business like it was the most important thing in the world.

The treatment mainly stemmed from the mark on her hand, also known as their last hope. They all needed her alive, which had proved unlikely at best after she had stabilized the breach. If she somehow died, the world would be lost. And she had already come very close to dying.

Even after she had pulled through the absolute disaster that had been her attempt to seal the breach, she had become prone to headaches, dizziness, confusion, and - though only once - fainting. The pride demon at the breach had bashed her quite brutally into the ground. Rose suspected head trauma, which Solas confirmed after a brief examination.

For this, Cassandra had put two guards on her. Myra, a giggly, dark skinned Dalish elf, and Hissera, a grey Qunari with white hair, purple eyes, and a very intimidating demeanor, being one of the few of her kind in Haven. They both wielded spears. The only way to get rid of them was to have someone with her, so she usually spent the day with Varric or Solas if she had no tasks to complete. Otherwise Myra and Hissera trailed her like two bad thieves.

"Are you ready to strike out for the Hinterlands tomorrow?" Varric said, his enthusiasm faked.

Rose shrugged. "Worried, mostly. It's strange, that everyone knows about me."

"Don't like the fame? Sure, some people hate you right now, but most are gonna be worshiping you. All kneel before the mighty Herald," he teased. "It's the templars and apostate we'll really have to watch out for."

She'd been an apostate until recently, but not like the ones stirring up trouble in the Hinterlands. Her time as an apostate had consisted of fleeing to the Conclave with her friends and not much else. Still, she didn't know how she would feel, killing them. Rose had killed people before, in self defense. She hoped they would focus on getting rid of the demons, and not the people.

"What do you think? Of the templars and the mages?" she asked tentatively.

Varric looked up at her, sighing. "Hard question there, Firefly. You know where I've been for the past seven years. Hawke was passionate about the treatment of the mages in Kirkwall, and I think by relation I was as well. But I saw good and bad on both sides. The First Enchanter gave in to desperation, while Cullen and Carver stood against the Knight-Commander herself.

"My point is, I don't know what to think. There's never been an easy answer to the Circles - that's why its all gone to shit. I'll always stand by the mages, though," he finished.

Rose was glad to hear that. She began to wring her hands, intrigued by what he'd said. All had heard the story of Kirkwall, but she hadn't had the time to get her hands on the book, which probably contained plenty more details. "Cullen was there? And he..."

"Yeah, didn't you know? When it came down to it, he drew his sword, took his place between Meredith and Hawke, and said, 'You'll have to go through me' like a hero out of a storybook," Varric said, putting on a good enough impression that Rose laughed. "Believe it or not, he had even more of a stick up his ass those days, but now I can get his guard down. Sometimes."

"Impressive," she remarked, and he chuckled. She hadn't even known Cullen was in Kirkwall, but that was her fault. They hadn't had much conversation beyond introductions. She'd work up the courage to speak with him while in the Hinterlands.

All too soon, they arrived at Haven's chantry, even while taking the long way. Rose's shoulders slumped. "Wish me luck," she said glumly. A long meeting awaited her, and it would consist of boring travel plans and a detailed review of what she would need to do in the Hinterlands. Most of the work was damage control. Then there would be an update on the small issues going on in Haven, which Josephine suggested she needn't be there for, but Rose thought it wrong to skip. She was the Herald. She needed to be involved.

Varric gave her a mock salute in one last attempt to earn a smile from her before leaving. Rose faced the looming chantry doors alone.

* * *

Rose didn't know what time it was, only that it was late.

She blinked wearily as she stepped outside, disoriented by the blast of cold. Her head was pounding from the tedious discussions. It made her nauseous. She laid a warm hand over her bandages, hoping she'd be strong enough for tomorrow. She'd have to be.

"Lady Herald," a silky, deep voice sounded. Rose turned. Hissera, leaning against the wall, with Myra in her shadow.

"Evening," Rose said, waving. "I'm heading back to my cabin."

"Are you alright?" the qunari asked politely, following as Rose began to walk. "You look pale."

"I'm fine, promise."

The made it past a few houses before the building dizziness swept over her like some great wave. Black stars were dancing over her vision before she stopped dead in her tracks. "My lady?" Hissera asked. Rose went down on one knee.

"Oh dear!" Myra exclaimed.

"My lady -" Hissera caught Rose as she pitched forward, her vision all gone but her hearing still intact.

"I'm sorry," Rose gasped, holding onto her needle thin connection to consciousness, grounding herself by digging her nails into Hissera's leather bracers. It was a fight she was losing.

Hurried footsteps. "What's going on?" She blinked rapidly, her head hanging low. She could not see who had approached. Embarrassment washed over her. She didn't want anyone to see her in this state. Weak, again, like always.

"She seemed unwell, but denied it. She collapsed shortly after," Hissera replied, unwavering as always.

The crunching of snow came closer. Rose did her best to look up, the world spinning out of focus. The face was close enough for her to see. Honey eyes and a mane of blonde hair. A scarred lip and furry pauldrons. She didn't want to flinch. She tried not to, but it was instinctual, especially when she saw he was reaching a hand towards her face.

Cullen frowned. He hesitated, but only for a moment. "You," he said, pointing towards Myra. "Find Solas, and tell him to come to the Herald's cabin immediately. Hissera, yes? Carry her."

Her limbs shook as Hissera gathered her up. "I can..." she began weakly.

"You can't," Cullen said gently. Not a retort. Just a fact.

Rose leaned her head back and stared at the sky as Hissera's powerful strides ate up the path ahead, getting them to the cabin in minutes. The dizziness would not subside. She could already hear Cassandra's lecturing on the finer points of not passing out.

"Set her down here," Cullen directed. Hissera placed her carefully on the chair in front of the fire, supporting her head for a second longer before backing off. Rose's breathing was tight and labored, sweat forming on her forehead. She clung on to the arm rests for dear life. She was going to be sick.

This time, Cullen kept back from her, leaning against the fireplace as he watched her with growing concern. "You should say something in a meeting, if you feel unwell. I know it can be a lot. We want you to get better."

Rose pressed her head back against the chair. He was right, but she had a problem with speaking up, especially when it concerned herself. "I'm sorry. I didn't want to...make a fuss." Her voice had gone hoarse, scraping against her throat.

"I think we should push back the trip to -"

The door opened, and Solas hurried in, Myra on his heels. As usual, he appeared entirely aloof. "Rosalia..." he began in a scolding tone. She sighed and looked away, as if to say, _I know_.

Solas stopped in front of her chair, setting his staff to the side. He laid a careful hand over her forehead, murmuring something in elvish. In a couple seconds, the worst of her symptoms faded away, melting against his magic. The room came to a halt, at least, and her body was finally able to relax.

"Stay there," Solas murmured, pulling away. He pivoted towards Cullen. "I think it would be in the Herald's best interests if we postponed our departure for the Hinterlands by at least three days."

Rose protested before either of them could start talking like she wasn't there. She wasn't entirely helpless. "No. I - I'm - Solas will be with me the entire time. He can help me if anything goes wrong," she said, fumbling with her words.

"The mind is not a muscle or bone, easily knit back together. You know this. Time and rest are better than what I can offer," Solas argued.

"We can't have you injuring yourself further," Cullen added.

Her annoyance built swiftly. "Maker, you're sending me into a bloody war zone and you're concerned for my health? It takes days to reach the Hinterlands. I can heal then." Instead of angry, she merely sounded tired, but there was some force behind her words.

A bit of color rose in Cullen's cheeks. "That's not fair. We don't _want_ to send you into danger. You're the only one who can close the rifts. We have no choice but to -"

Solas raised a hand, and that was all it took to silence them. He glanced over at Rose. "One more day. Just to recuperate from this incident. We will tell the others that it is based upon my insistence, and not mention what happened tonight. Does that satisfy you both?"

Cullen shrugged and backed down. "It's probably best if we don't tell Cassandra. She would put you on bed rest for a week if she found out you fainted."

Rose recalled Josephine and Leliana's descriptions of her dropping lifeless to the floor during their very first meeting, out cold before she'd hit the stone, and Cassandra's subsequent reaction. It brought on a mix of humor and shame - what a way to make a first impression.

One day wasn't as bad as three. Besides, the idea of the Hinterlands still terrified her, and she was one to put things off. She looked around at the four gathered. "Alright. Can I sleep now?"


	3. chapter 2

"I honestly don't know if you've been touched by fate or sent to help us, but I hope. Hope is what we need now. The people will listen to your rallying call as they will listen to no other. You could build the Inquisition into a force that will deliver us. Or destroy us."

Rose looked away from the Mother Giselle, down at the people milling about in the small Hinterland village. She curled her hands into fists. "I'm the last person they would have picked for this job, if they had the choice. Mother, I'm not sure if..." She trailed off. There was plenty she was unsure of. Even more she wasn't ready for. All she was sure of was that she was stuck, like some frightened animal in a trap.

"Hope, my dear. Remember to hold onto it. The fact that you are troubled means you care. Perhaps you are not the one they chose, but the one they need. Leaders come in many forms, and in times of such turmoil, I think a gentle soul will serve well in guiding us from the darkness," the woman said softly. "Do your best. That is all anyone can be asked to do."

Rose left her, wandering about the village in search of her companions. Strangers ran up to her, falling at her feet. Some wept, some praised her, and some begged for her blessing. She gave them whatever they asked for, even if it was lies, and hoped she was as radiant as they expected. _This is my best._

It was Solas she found first. He was crouched before an elven child and her mother, murmuring words she could not hear until she was close.

"..and they will not come back here. The Inquisition keeps people safe. Now, your mother said you were hurt?" he asked gently.

Teary eyed, the child held out her hands. Skinned palms.

"Ah, I see. Lucky for you..." Solas smiled, and waved a hand through the air above her injuries. As it passed, the scrapes healed instantly, so that it appeared as though they vanished, along with all the blood. "You only need me for this."

Once they were gone, Rose approached. Solas turned, nodding respectfully to her. "That was very kind," she said.

"I help where I can," he responded. He was always humble about his skills.

Hesitating, she went on. "I wish I could do what you do."

Solas shook his head. "You are an excellent mage, Rosalia. You have proved yourself to be an excellent fighter for a circle mage, and you can execute a wider variety of spells than I. Is there anything you aren't proficient in?"

She had proved she could fight. Her long years of training in the tower hadn't included that, but there were other ways to learn self defense. Older, rebellious mages often passed down certain skills in Ostwick, as there was no better way to ward off the Templars when the time eventually came. Still, she could be overwhelmed easily without her companions at her side. And..."I was never good at healing. I don't know why."

Solas smiled. "I can try to help you, if you like. Healing is one of the things I pride myself in."

Cassandra and Varric came over then, having finished their own business with the villagers - helping to move the corpses and clean up. "Mother Giselle?" the Seeker asked.

Rose nodded. It was time for them to move on to bigger and deadlier things.

* * *

The Hinterlands was a beautiful valley of rolling green hills and deep, lush forests. It was one of the prettier countrysides she had traveled through. It was just a shame it was swarming with hordes of annoying bastards.

Rose swung her staff at the face of a Templar who had gotten far too close. Whether it was his jaw cracking or the wood of her staff, she wasn't sure. Before he could make a second attack, he staggered, gurgling. A second ago, there hadn't been a crossbow bolt sticking through his neck, but now there was. She watched with deepening horror as he held onto the shaft, choking on his own blood. It spilled out of his mouth before he fell into the grass, face first.

The battle ended pretty quickly after that. Rose wiped the sweat from her forehead as she observed the carnage. The days were passing by in exhausting blurs, and they were set to be here for another week thanks to all the things they had to fix. She had closed so many rifts her arm was sore, but it was rewarding. She had never done so much good and impactful work in her life. There were always more refugees to help, and she enjoyed assisting them in any way she could. Maybe she was cut out for this thing.

On top of that, they had found Master Dennet and the horses that came with him. He would be a much needed addition to the Inquisition.

"We should press on," Cassandra said, flicking blood from her sword. She cleaned and whetted and oiled it each night religiously. "Winterwatch Tower is ahead, I believe."

Rose nodded and walked on. Varric joined her - Cassandra and Solas didn't always make the best small talk.

"I somehow miss Haven," she muttered.

"Me too. At least it was quiet sometimes. And there was more than river water to drink," Varric said glumly, his crossbow on his shoulder.

"There were beds."

"Uh, yeah, for you. I, Varric Tethras, have been sleeping in a tent like some lowly peasant," he grumbled.

Rose hadn't joked often in the circle. There hadn't been much room to be herself there. It felt good to put on a stupid voice and make a face. "I will have that remedied immediately, my lord."

Varric elbowed her in the side, chuckling. "We'll make a jester out of you yet. Who knows - this Herald thing might not work out."

"You better hope it works out," she told him, grinning like an idiot.

They both heard the low whistle that emitted from Cassandra. The warrior held up a hand, poised to defend herself. The apostates and Templars alike preferred ambushes, in hopes of getting the upper hand. They had developed a system of signals in preparation for it.

Rose raised her staff, eyes narrowed, and gathered her mana. She sensed something to the left of her, a tingling at her neck. Mage's intuition, perhaps. She grabbed Varric and ducked with him just as several arrows came flying at their heads. She could feel the rush of the wind as they passed by and thudded harmlessly into the dirt.

On her feet, Rose swept a barrier around them all, scanning the trees for their enemies. Even more Templars came sprinting out with a war cry, swords raised, a thin wave arrows raining down. "Andraste's ass!" Varric swore, struggling to reload Bianca in time.

Cassandra didn't hesitate. She ran out to meet the Templars and was soon cutting them down, a whirl of tempered fury and disciplined grace. Solas dashed away on ice, Varric moving off the other way as he released bolt after bolt. Which left Rose to her own devices. The Templars that swarmed towards her died in controlled swirls of fire after the ground beneath them had locked their feet in place. There were more than usual out to kill them, as they usually had some time to relax between attacks.

Rose spun in a circle once she was sure no one else was coming for her, checking on her companions. Solas and Varric were okay, but Cassandra was getting the worst of it. She had only set eyes upon her when a Templar cut through her armor, right across her stomach. The Seeker fell backwards, hefting her shield up with a grunt of pain.

Her mind darkened and her thoughts emptied out. She ran forward. Electricity burst from her hand and staff, multiple bolts, and struck at those around Cassandra. Some died instantly. Others collapsed, screaming.

Rose stood over Cassandra, warding off any who came near, before finally taking the time to kneel beside her. The wound was deep and bleeding badly enough that the most Cassandra could do was prop herself up on her elbows. "Don't move," Rose murmured, remembering her days old conversation with Solas all too clearly. She put her hand over the gash in the armor and focused, feeling the act drain quickly at her mana. It was like she was taking her own energy and pouring it into the injured warrior.

Cassandra grabbed her shoulders suddenly. "Move out of the -"

Someone grabbed her from behind and yanked her away from Cassandra, tossing her roughly to the ground. Rose looked up at the Templar and froze, seeing someone who was not there.A name wormed its way into her mind, a name she didn't want to remember._  
_

He sneered, ready to strike. He died with that expression on his face. Impaled on Cassandra's sword. Pale, she let the body and her weapon fall away, while she herself stumbled back to the ground.

The fight was over. Solas rushed to Cassandra, healing what Rose could not, probably so perfectly that there wouldn't be a scar. Meanwhile, Varric rushed over to her, his crossbow loaded. They didn't know if anyone else might come in. Sometimes there were two waves of attackers to fight against.

"Alright, Firefly?" he asked, offering a hand to help her up. He was strong, and she was small, by human standards.

"Fine."

* * *

That night, Rose sat up in her tent with a racing heart. There was a name on her lips and a scream in her throat. She suffocated them both.

Rose sighed and pushed her mussed hair back and out of her face. This needed to stop.

"Do you always have nightmares?"

Rose jumped a little, twisting to look at Cassandra. She closed her eyes and released the breath she had suddenly held. "Maker."

"Sorry," Cassandra said, sitting up as well. "I'm a light sleeper. It wakes me up every night. And sometimes you talk. A lot."

Her cheeks started to warm. She didn't tell anyone about her past, and her past was all she dreamed of. Fading memories, but the horror of them was always so clear. "What do - do I -" she tried to get out, terrified she might have revealed something.

"Don't worry. Nothing coherent. I was just curious." Cassandra laid back down.

Rose pressed her cold, clammy fingers to her cheeks. "I'm sorry. For waking you."

She could visualize Cassandra's frown by now. She had one on her face so often, and it was usually accompanied by a certain tone of voice. "I was just checking if you were alright. You apologize too much."

_I'm sorry_. "They're just dreams."

Cassandra made a noise of disbelief. 

"Being here, fighting the Templars. It brings the past up. It reminds me of...certain things," Rose admitted, afraid of how Cassandra might react. She was a Seeker, and though Rose hadn't gotten the chance to speak with her much, she assumed she didn't take too kindly to mages and magic.

"Your circle's rebellion. Leliana said you were an apostate yourself for some time as well."

Rose was quick to jump to her own defense. "I - I didn't hurt anyone. I would never have done that. I just got some of my friends to safety, and sometimes I did what I had to do."

"I understand," Cassandra muttered, pausing. "I still believe in the circles. I know we don't agree there. But I will not judge you for what you had to do in times of chaos. None of us had a choice, but to do what we thought right."

Her shoulders slumped. She liked Cassandra, and wanted them to be friends. She could handle some disagreement in their relationship. "Thank you."

"In my lifetime, I have been inclined to dislike mages. Corruption and abuse are another story, however. No person should be treated as they were in Kirkwall. I am glad that you are a mage, even if I was not at first." Cassandra said, a little sheepishly. She wasn't a woman to back down on her stances, from what Rose had seen.

Rose bit her lip, staring down at her hands. "Leliana looked into my past?" she all but whispered.

"Yes. You want to know what she found? Not a lot. In fact, Leliana was concerned with how little there was to be found, especially when she dug deeper." There was a question within Cassandra's words, an expectation in her silence.

"Perhaps it's better, if the past stays buried," Rose said, the emotion draining from her voice. Corruption and abuse. What a perfect description.

She had buried almost all of it already. The memories of the Circle. They weren't like the ones of the rebellion; she was used to killing and fighting and friends dying, and watching the Templars that had tormented her for so long finally get what they deserved had brought her a sick sort of satisfaction. That was tolerable, but the Circle was a void within herself she pretended she could cover up, filled with things much worse than what the rebellion had showed her.

Rose dug her fingernails into her palms. It seemed the Templars had desperately wanted to cover their tracks as well, if even Leliana could not find the truth. What would they all think of her, if they did? She didn't even want to imagine it. There were terrible things she had let happen and continue. They were things people would look down on her for. Her throat tightened slowly.

"What am I missing?" Cassandra asked, blunt, less curious and more concerned.

"I'm sorry. I'll go take over for Varric," Rose said in a trembling voice, escaping the tent while she still could.

She nearly tripped over her own feet on the way, ignoring Cassandra's quiet call. The night air was fresh and calming, the sky a blanket of stars. It washed away the building panic within her.

Varric sat by the fire, dressed more simply than she had seen before, Bianca at his feet and a book in his hands. The chest hair he bragged so lovingly about was on full display. He looked up as she reached the edges of the light, but he did not smile.

"Did the Seeker say something?" he asked when she was close enough for them to talk in low voices.

"No. I'm..." she trailed off, unsure, pressing down her tears.

Varric gestured to the space beside him on the log, and Rose sat down. She hugged herself. It was nothing. She was getting upset over nothing. She rubbed her eyes and glanced over at the dwarf.

They had done this every night in the Hinterlands, and had started to in Haven. The trauma of the breach had unlocked something inside her, and not in a good way. It had taken her years to develop scar tissue over those memories, and now it was like that protection had never existed. The first few nights at Haven she had huddled alone on her bed, until fear that the nightmares were somehow real drove her to take long, cold walks. Varric was awake a lot at night too, coincidentally.

"Don't look at me like that," she mumbled. "I'm fine."

Varric patted her on the back. "I know. It's okay."

Here came her lame excuse of the night. "I hope we go back to Haven soon. I'm tired of killing people."

"Me too, kid. Me too."

She didn't go back to sleep that night.

* * *

The four of them stood and stared at the burning house on top of the hill.

"Well, there's nothing we can do now," Cassandra said as part of the roof gave way, collapsing in a shower of embers. "We might as well move on."

Solas frowned at her. "What if there's someone inside, Seeker? Surely we should try and do something."

"Or perhaps no one is, and by this time I can only guess they are -"

Barking echoed down the hill towards them. Rose stiffened, and narrowed her eyes at the fire. "Is there a dog trapped inside that house?" she wondered aloud, taking a step forward, staff raised.

Varric put a hand on his forehead. "Oh, shit."

More barking. "There's a dog trapped in the house."

Cassandra reached for Rose, a stern lecture already on its way out. "Listen, you can't think you could possibly-"

Her fist closed on air, for the Herald was already sprinting up the hill.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i cannot be bothered to dedicate more than a chapter to the hinterlands for obvious reasons. also i wont be using a lot of the in game dialogue because weve all heard it before and im lazy


	4. chapter 3

They - and by 'they' this meant Rose and Varric - named the Mabari Sparky.

By the time the week was out, they were returning to Haven. They climbed back into the snowy passes, braving howling wind and cold nights until they arrived at the sleepy little town. The breach was a sight to behold all over again. Rose didn't look at it for long.

At least they would be on horseback for all expeditions after this. They had sent Dennet on ahead of them to get some makeshift stables in order and settle the horses in.

Cassandra had them enter Haven quietly, so there would be no fuss and waste of time. The people got excited enough seeing her walk around on her daily business, and there was no need for some big welcoming party. They slipped into the chantry in the early morning, when it was less likely for people to be about. Varric was very pleased that he got to attend one of the Inquisition's 'top secret meetings.'

The meeting was shorter than most, probably due to Cassandra's building rage at Varric's constant japes. They summarized what they had done at the Hinterlands briefly, for the sake of all their sanity. There wasn't much for them all to argue about, anyways. Rose was free within an hour.

"So...can I keep Sparky in my cabin?" Rose asked the Seeker.

Cassandra stopped to jab a finger at her. "I don't care what you do with it. You are the one that foolishly ran into a burning house to save the damn thing, so I expect it will stay in your quarters," she said sharply before storming off, in search of someone else to yell at.

Rose shrugged, called Sparky after her, and started walking. The grey and white Mabari trotted along obediently.

She wanted to check on the horses. As a child, she had ridden once or twice before being sent off to the circle. She didn't know how she felt about the animals anymore, but she'd need to get used to them. On her way, she happily greeted the people of Haven. She found that she was warming to the job thanks to her experience in the Hinterlands. When forced to be personable, she could be so, and was learning how to instill hope in the downtrodden. The mages especially. She knew exactly what most had suffered, and being able to hear their experiences and reassure them lifted her up. She had influence with this position. Maybe she really could make a change.

Sometime during her walk, Hissera and Myra joined her, appearing out of nowhere and startling her. Rose greeted them and asked them how they'd been, glad she was comfortable enough around them now to do so.

The stables looked quite nice, though there still wasn't enough room, and many of the horses had to be kept in a series of outdoor pens, layered with blankets to keep them warm. The lucky ones go their own stalls.

Rose waved at Dennet as she passed him. He had already acquired a few stable hands, and was giving them a good talking to about something. Rose turned her eyes to the horses and stopped dead in her tracks.

Cullen Rutherford was at one of the stalls, petting a horse.

Before she could make a swift retreat, he noticed her and smiled. She stopped, then forced herself to stiffly walk towards him._ He's seen you now. Too late to pull back. Plus, he's probably realized by now that you've been avoiding him, and then he'll think badly of you, so it's for the best if you just suck it up and -_

"Herald. You did an excellent job, finding Master Dennet. He has a beautiful stock of horses," he said, admiring the white one he was still petting. She noticed the sugar cubes in his hands.

Gentle. He was as gentle a templar she would ever find. It wasn't a bad place to start. After that night in the Hinterlands, whatever confidence Rose had built up had plummeted. She had been torn down so easily. She would have to do much harder things than talking to an ally before this Inquisition nonsense was over.

Time to get over he fear. He wasn't going to hurt her. He wasn't like the others. Right?

"And who's this?" Cullen asked, raising his eyebrows at Sparky. Genuine excitement lit up his eyes.

"Sparky," Rose said, realizing how dumb the name sounded as she said it to him.

Cullen crouched down in front of the Mabari, holding out his hands. "Hello there. How are you?" he asked, and when Sparky trotted forward, he let her sniff him first. "Good? Ah, you're beautiful. Sparky is a good name, Herald."

He petted her a while, showering her with attention. Rose realized she should probably say something. "Do you like horses, Commander?" she asked lamely, watching the animals from a safe distance.

Cullen stood up, nodding. Sparky circled back towards her. "They're intelligent beasts, much like Mabari. They each have their own personalities. I haven't owned one a mount in ages. I'll admit - I'm excited to claim one," Cullen said, his honey eyes alight with joy. She smiled, briefly - she rarely met someone who loved animals so much. "As Herald, you should have first pick."

Oh Maker. She laughed nervously. "Um, I don't know. I'm not very familiar with horses."

He paused to examine her face. "Are you...afraid of horses?" he asked, smirking.

"No," she blurted. She was already starting to blush. Shit. "Of course not. I'm just, ah..."

Cullen kept smirking at her. He crossed his arms, waiting expectantly.

"Okay, fine! Yes, I am afraid of the horses. They have large hooves. And teeth."

At that, Cullen finally released the laughter he must have been holding in. He motioned towards her, his words broken up by his laughing. "Sorry, sorry. Come here, I can help you. This one's very nice."

Rose took two hesitant steps forward. Getting close to the horse also meant getting closer to him. She wanted neither. Her heart was in her throat. _Get over it. _She stood beside him, leaning away from the horse. "What do I do?" she asked.

"Relax. She's a sweetheart. Stroke her nose first. She'll try to sniff you, but she means no harm," Cullen instructed patiently.

Rose reached out. Slowly. The horse became interested in what the hell was taking her so long, and leaned her neck out to meet Rose's fingers. Rose jerked back in response with a small, startled noise.

Cullen was clearly containing a laugh. "Alright, alright. Here, do you want some help?"

He was offering his gloved hand to her. It was just a hand. It wouldn't bite, unlike a horse. Rose took it. She had never been so close to Cullen. His cheeks were flushed from the cold, hair tousled by the wind into loose curls. His stubble had thickened while they'd been gone in the Hinterlands. She liked it.

His touch was light. He held the back of her hand, fingers interlaced with hers, and guided her hand towards the horse's nose. She was distinctly aware of how much bigger his was compared to hers, engulfing it. Not to mention the rest of him - what was he, six foot? Their arms were pressed together at the moment, and although he was always in his armor, a man didn't look that sturdy and broad shouldered without muscle. Rose had put on some muscle thanks to the constant travel and fighting in the Hinterlands, but she was still tiny compared to him, in every way.

She inhaled deeply. He smelled like tea. There was something wrong with her.

Rose was distracted enough in her observations that she didn't notice how close they had gotten to the horse. Her fingers grazed the white mare's nose. Soft and warm. She smiled.

"See? Not so bad," Cullen said, slowly pulling away. Next, she fed the horse a sugar cube, and stood on her toes to scratch her ears.

"What would you call her?" Rose asked absentmindedly, completely enamored.

"Sugar?" he suggested, his tone joking.

Rose rolled her eyes at him. "Creative. But I like it, actually."

"Would you like to ride her?"

She bit the inside of her cheek. That was a big step up. "I don't know if I'm ready. And besides, you probably have more important things to be doing." Which was true. Whenever she saw him, he was working tirelessly.

Cullen glanced up at the sky, judging the time. "I left my lieutenant in charge for an hour or two. She needs some experience in leadership. It's up to you, though," he said.

Rose looked over at Sugar, then back at Cullen. She'd killed a bunch of people in the Hinterlands. This was nothing. _Maker, that's grim_. "Okay. I'll do it. But only if you hold the reins."

It took her a bit of time to brush Sugar, clean her hooves, and heave the saddle onto her back, but Cullen was a good instructor. He helped, but not so much that she didn't learn anything. When it came time to mount up, she used a stepping block.

Varric chose that moment to notice them and walk over, already grinning. "Wow, Firefly. For once I'm not the only one you're taller than."

"Don't worry, Tethras - we found a donkey, just for you," she shot back.

He put a hand on his chest. "I see how it is. You learn my tricks and then betray me at the first chance you get," he said. "What about you, Curly? Are the two of you going on a ride? I think I'll skip, even if it is just a donkey. Dwarves are more susceptible to a horse's kick."

"Curly?" Rose asked, before either of them could say something. She knew Varric gave a lot of people nicknames, but she hadn't known he had given Cullen one.

Varric snorted into his hand while Cullen rubbed the back of his neck, the red already in his cheeks brightening. "It had something to do with my hair," he said, self consciously smoothing it down, even though it was already smooth.

"Honestly, Firefly, it was a bit of a disaster. And also hilarious, of course. I wish you could have -"

"Okay that's enough," Cullen interrupted loudly, cheeks blazing, and began guiding Sugar in the opposite direction. Rose turned in the saddle, blowing Varric a kiss, which he caught with a dramatic stagger.

He walked Sugar a good ways along the frozen lake while Rose got used to the sway of a horse and braided her mane. "Where did you learn to ride?" she asked.

"My father taught me the basics, on the old family nag that would pull our wagon. I grew up in a small village in Ferelden, so we didn't have much to work with. I got to do a lot more in the circle," he explained.

Rose frowned. "When did you join the templars?"

"I was thirteen at the time, if I remember correctly."

"That's young. To leave your family."

"I imagine you had a similar experience."

Rose focused on Sugar's mane. "I was eleven, when I was taken to the circle." The difference was that he had made the choice to leave. She had been dragged, kicking and crying, from her home, even though she had intended to go quietly and gracefully as a highborn little lady should, as her mother had encouraged. _Don't let them see your fear, dove._

She hadn't thought of such things in a long time.

"You were in Ostwick, yes? I heard..."

Every part of her wanted to retreat._ I don't want to talk about it, I can't_. She cleared her throat and straightened in the saddle. "It wasn't good. The end. But the circle was the only life I knew for a long time, and it's...odd, the freedom." She looked anywhere but him, afraid he'd see the truth she wasn't telling. 

"Do you ever regret joining the templars?" she asked. She didn't know why she wanted to know more about his past. Maybe it was because she wanted to see where he stood on the mage and templar conflict. Maybe it was because he was quiet and thoughtful, and she liked that.

Rose sometimes blamed her magic. If it didn't exist, none of this would have happened to her. She would be with her family. She might even be happy. At other times, she couldn't imagine herself without magic. It was a part of her. Using it was only time she felt like all the pieces fit. It was the one thing in this world she could say she was good at, above average at, and she'd only gotten better since the rebellion. She felt naked without her staff. The conflict within her drove her mad at times.

"I don't think I do. It's easy to look back and pick out what you would change but...I wouldn't be me, if that makes any sense. I have had to suffer to learn what is right and what is good, as terrible as it sounds, but I _have_ learned," Cullen said.

Rose looked up at the breach, Sugar's odd gait becoming familiar to her. He was right, wasn't he? If she hadn't been a mage, she would not care about their suffering. If she hadn't been oppressed, she would not care about the oppression of others. _I would not be kind. I would not have fire. I would not have me._

She took a deep breath, absentmindedly rubbing Sugar's neck. "We wouldn't be stuck in this hell of a situation together, that's for sure," she joked, smiling at him. He smiled back, a quirk of his scarred lip.

"Let's speak of something happier. Tell me about your family, Commander."

**Author's Note:**

> hello thar thanks for checking out this shit. i wont be doing much cullen pov, just for small bits.


End file.
